I still wanted to leave early. After John was acting all stupid, why would I want to stay any longer?

But Nick brought up a good point. I knew John would get argumentative if he had too much to drink. I knew enough about drugs that they had the tendency to change your disposition, your attitude. That you would end up doing things that you would never do if you were completely sober. So I considered this and tried to forgive John for acting the way he did.

Still, the fairy tale I had envisioned had been shattered.

I wanted to know if I could pick up the pieces.

If John would help to pick up the pieces.

Was it even possible?

Nick was right. I couldn't just mope around, feeling sorry for myself. So I went over to their room again, and told Nick was going to the Met during the day. They had another concert that night at the same venue so of course I was invited. I basically told Nick that I was going to the concert. Nick was relieved, glad I was staying.

"But I want to cool off for a little, if you know what I mean. So if John asks for me or whatever, just tell him I want to talk to him after the concert."

Nick smiled broadly. "Brill! Will do. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you guys."

They had all these photo shoots and TV spots to do while they were in the States, and so they'd be gone for the whole day too, so I went ahead and checked out some museums in New York. Gina at Tower told me to check out Central Park - and on a whim I decided to take a ride in a horse-drawn carriage through the park. It was a beautiful day, all right.

I only wished I could share the moment with John.

That night, I dressed more Grace-like. A pair of acid-washed jeans, a pale purple sweater with pearl and sequin flowers, and a silver bow in my hair. Much better, I said to myself as I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I went to the venue with Andy, Roger and Simon - Nick always being the perfectionist, was looking over his synth programs - and John had to talk to his mom on the phone. Awwwww! Oh, stop that Grace. You're supposed to be *mad* at the guy.

As usual, Duran Duran put on a smashing performance. Simply smashing. It reminded me why I liked them so much after I heard them perform at that club in D.C. when I first met them. They were amazing as concert performers.

Soon though, I had to meet with John. After the concert, I was waiting for him backstage. The guys were coming off the stage, one by one. I offered to stand there with the towels. Andy, then Nick (who whispered to me, "go get 'im tiger!"), then Simon, then Roger.

Then John stepped offstage. He was half-smiling as I handed him a towel to dry off. Looking utterly gorgeous, sweat dripping down his face after a job well done. I could have just given in right then and there, he had no clue what kind of effect he had on me.

He was devastatingly beautiful. Even all tired and sweaty...

His eyes said something else. "Grace..." he said, almost apologetically, "we need to talk."

I nodded. "Yes John, we need to talk," I agreed, suggesting that we go back to the hotel so we would have the suite all to ourselves. The rest of Duran Duran had decided to go clubbing again - and I think they all decided to suddenly go since Nick elbowed them saying that the two of us were going back to have a conversation. I silently said "thank you" to Nick with my eyes, to which he smiled.

We got back to the hotel and sat in the living room area, on a loveseat, side by side.

"Grace..."

"John..."

We both laughed. "You first," John said.

"No, you first," I replied. "I have a lot to say but I want to hear what you have to say first."

John breathed in deeply. "Okay." He took one of my hands in his. I looked down at his long, lithe fingers that indicated he would have been a wonderful pianist if he wanted to be. I trembled slightly at his touch. "I think last night proved that I sometimes do stupid things. Luckily, I talked to Nick this morning about you...and how I would be kicking myself if I broke up what good thing we had going."

I nodded slowly, not wanting to break up his chain of thought.

"I think I'm always going to care for you, Grace. I know now that you are a true friend, and I hope to always be there for you as I know you will be for me. In any situation. But..." He paused slightly as if what was going to come out of his mouth was going to be painful. "I think we both can agree that long-distance relationships don't work..."

"...and the groupie factor doesn't help," I said quickly, turning away from him. In a way, after what had happened, I did consider breaking up with John. But still, I thought I loved him. And it hurt that he was going to cast me off like that.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, I wanted to cry. Long. Hard. Did I love him? It was hard for me to tell. On one hand, I loved him with all my heart. Or so I thought. But now I wasn't so sure. It wasn't clear cut anymore.

He ran his fingers across my cheek, and in response my face turned. "We-ell, that too. But what I'm trying to say, Grace, is that I don't want to hurt you anymore. You're one of my best friends. I don't want anything that I do - daft or whatever - to ruin the friendship we've got. You understand what I'm saying?" He desperately looked into my eyes for signs of recognition of what he had just said.

I sighed. "I came to a similar conclusion after talking to Nick today," I replied. "I mean, it isn't fair to you to keep you completely devoted to me when you're halfway across the world. It doesn't make sense. You're young, and I wasn't born yesterday John...I know you can have any woman you want. I sort of accepted that fate. But...I don't want to lose your friendship either. You've meant the world to me since we've met. It *was* fate that brought me to you. Whatever happens now, I know that I want you there. As much as I thought I loved you, I can't erase you from my life."

"You've given me so much, Grace," John said quietly.

That did it. I started crying and bawling like a baby. John took me in his arms, and I don't know what felt worse, being told that he didn't want me as a girlfriend anymore, or being held in the arms of the man who had just said exactly that.

"Oh Grace..." He held me tightly, and there I was making big ugly tearstains all over his concert clothes.

But it wasn't the way he had held me yesterday - and he didn't kiss me either.

"All I know is, I wanted it all but didn't realize the kind of effect I would have on you, on your life. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

I didn't say anything, biting my lip to stop the tears, but it wasn't working. "John, I know. I know what you're saying is going to be the best for us. It's just...it's just going to hurt like the most incredible hurt right now." I wanted him to feel sorry for me. I wanted him to kiss me the way he'd kissed me times before and prove to me that he loved me to eternity. To kiss me in the way that only John Taylor could.

But I knew then that it was impossible.

He softly said in my ear, "Grace, I'm sorry. But I think this is for the best." He didn't say I love you. And I knew he never really loved me. I had enough love for the both of us. And I let it blind me to the point that I didn't see that maybe me and John weren't meant to be together.

I was in love with John Taylor, the teen idol. The centerfold.

But Nigel John Taylor was so much more complex than that. He lived the whirlwind life of a rock star complete with all those perks of being a rock star. The life that I couldn't be any farther from myself.

In an ironic sort of way, John was doing a smart thing for John Taylor. For us - if there ever were an us. For me.

If I stayed on as his girlfriend, somewhere down the line I was going to hurt again. And again. John was right. The best thing for us was to break up.

I knew I had to let go, because he was letting me go. It reminded me of a bee sting. At the outset it filled you with pain but like they say, time does heal. The wound may never fully go away but you get close. You have to go on living your life as if nothing happened, and someday you will live again the way you did before it all happened.

Knowing that I couldn't stay any longer, I told John I had to leave early the next day, on a morning flight back to Washington. He understood.

I tried to go to sleep that night but wasn't very successful. So at 3:20 in the morning, I got out of my bed, threw on my bathrobe, and sat in front of the desk in my room, realizing that I couldn't leave Roger, Nick, Simon, and Andy without a second glance. I wasn't mad or upset with them. They no doubt would be wondering where I'd gone. John said that they were leaving New York the next afternoon anyhow - but still, I couldn't just leave without saying goodbye to them.

So I took a piece of hotel stationery and started to write what was in my heart.

To Nick, Roger, Andy, and Simon,

I'm sorry to be writing you a letter like this. Letters are so impersonal. But instead of waking you guys from a well-deserved slumber, here I am. I will be leaving New York to go home on an early flight, probably hours before you all are awake and raring to go on to the next city on the "Rio" support tour.

You have been always been so kind and accepting of the relationship I had with John, one of your own. I know you didn't have to be but you were. Putting up with the sometimes lovey-dovey antics of your bass player. I will leave him to discuss with you what went down between us - I'd rather have you hear it from him than me. But I want to assure you that whatever happens between me and him - I will always have a place in my heart for the Duran Duran I have come to know and love.

I will always remember that night I first heard you play at the Bayou two years ago. You blew me away that night, and you blew me away again these past two days. You always have a friend in the capital of this great nation of ours. Please don't be a stranger. I wish you all the very best, and success in life, love and happiness.

A friend (and fan) forever,
Grace Huang

Satisfied, I sealed the letter in an envelope, crept out of my room and slipped it under the door of their suite. I knew I needed a good night's sleep for the long day ahead.